


Day 160 - Taken (3/6)

by Anarion



Series: An almost gravitational pull    (former '365 days of 221Bs' series) [160]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: And a basement, Angst, Evil guy, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Where's John?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Something was not right. He tried to open his eyes and failed.</b>
</p><p>As a writing exercise for me, Atlinmerrick and I came up with the ‘365 days of 221Bs’ challenge: I am going to write a 221B each day for a year (meaning 365 in total). Every 221B will be based on a prompt given by Atlin on the same day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 160 - Taken (3/6)

**Author's Note:**

> [First part: Taken (1/6)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/528160)

His brain was working too slow. Something was not right. He tried to open his eyes and failed. The air smelled of metal and mould and sick.

He stirred. Pain. His muscles were on fire. He groaned.

“Welcome back, posh boy. Sorry about the pain, it’s a residue from the narcotic.” He clearly did not sound like he was sorry. He sounded like someone who enjoyed seeing others in pain.

The man picked something metal from the ground and walked over. Sherlock braced himself for an attack, but the man stopped just out of reach. Then a bucket of ice-cold water splashed over Sherlock’s face.

He spluttered and coughed but suddenly found that he could open his eyes. Unfortunately everything remained a blur.

“What do you want from me?”

The man laughed, an ugly sound. “From you? Nothing. Not everything is about you. You are just the bait. Because he will come for you, like he always came for you.”

“John.” It was a painful whisper, that got stuck half-way up his throat.

“What? Oh, your bum chum. Hoping that he will save you? Dream on, pretty face. And you’re wrong. I heard that you’re never wrong. Did we bang your brain too hard? I’m talking about that brother of yours. You know what we call him? The King of Britain.”

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was 'the Queen'.


End file.
